Illusions of Death
by xxliveforever17xx
Summary: When tragedy rocks the 15th Division, Sam and Andy are left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey everyone!_

_So I'm having massive trouble with my other multi-chapter story and was seriously ready to mutilate my muse when this story came to me. I just HAD to start writing it before the new episode aired, though since I live on the west coast I get it three whole hours after all you other lucky people, though I refuse to read the spoilers on the message boards and forums until after I've seen it._

_This is only the first chapter of the story. Don't kill me for the ending, there is more to come. It will probably be a three, four, five chapter story tops._

_Hope you all enjoy. And thanks for all your lovely reviews and story/author alerts and favorites for the rest of my works. You are all amazing! xx_

**_This takes place sometime in the future, like a couple months after the season ends, though they are still rookies._**

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When Sam had first entered the building, he had been reminded of his innate dislike of hospitals. The overwhelming smell of disinfectant; the harsh halogen lights that made everyone look like the walking dead; the constant murmur of voices and noises that was too loud to ignore. Everything irked him for reasons he didn't quite understand himself. But this trip to the hospital was different. Dislike had turned to dread.

Andy.

He hadn't been allowed to ride in the ambulance with her, despite his best attempts at threats and the almost brandishing of his gun, though Shaw had restrained him before he had had time to.

He had driven to the hospital like a maniac, taking full advantage of the lights and sirens of the squad car. He had thrown open the front doors and demanded just where the hell a certain Officer McNally was from the first personnel he had come across. An extremely flustered male nurse had pushed Sam to the very limits of his patience before Shaw had stepped in yet again and calmed things down.

So now here he was, sitting in the operating waiting room, surrounded by rookies Nash and Epstein, Officers Williams and Shaw, as well as Jerry, who had been with Nash when she had been alerted of what had happened.

He was in a room full of people, and had never felt more so alone.

He snarled at Epstein, who was hesitantly making his way towards him. The rookie backpedaled as quickly as he could.

Sam sunk his head into his hands, unwilling to close his eyes lest he see the scenario again. But the unnaturally bright light was too much for his already strained eyes.

As soon as his eyelids shut, images flashed through his mind.

_"McNally, you cover me. We go in on my count of three."_

_"Sir, Best said I couldn't be involved in this case. Besides, even if I could be, we don't have any backup."_

Sam remembered he had been beyond exasperated with his rookie at that time. She always followed protocol, and he couldn't comprehend why.

_"McNally, you really want to wait until we call for backup? By that time, Tyrone will be half way to Jamaica or God knows where. As for you not being able to be involved, what kind of bullshit is that? You really going to sit back and not take down the bastard who has a personal vendetta against you? Where the hell is your want for revenge, McNally?"_

_She was silent, the struggle between following Best's orders and a want for self-preservation against the fear of disappointing her training officer evident in her eyes. He watched her make her decision. She looked at him, but said nothing. She didn't need to; he knew exactly what she had decided.  
_

_"Good, now that we're done being scared, let's go take down this son of a bitch."_

Sam felt something wet pooling in his eyes. He didn't know what was happening. This was his fault, all his fault...

_They entered the warehouse, guns drawn. He took the north and east of the building, she took the south and west. He had just begun to turn around to signal to her that it was clear when he saw a bright flash followed by three harsh bangs. She had fallen down like a rag doll, limbs limp, head lolling to the side. _

_ "Shots fired! Officer down, repeat, officer down!"_

Over and over again the scene played out in Sam's mind, like a horror movie he couldn't stop watching. Over and over and over again...

The sound of a door swinging open and shut brought Sam back to reality. He looked up through bloodshot eyes to see a surgeon in scrubs walk into the waiting room.

"Are you with Miss McNally?" he asked, his voice low and gruff. Sam nodded, his throat suddenly constricting. He swallowed.

"I'm Sam Swarek. Her partner," he answered thickly. He was momentarily confused as he looked around the room. It was empty, save for Jerry, who came and stood next to the chair where Sam was sitting. The detective introduced himself to the surgeon, but Sam's mind was elsewhere. Where was everyone? Where had they all gone?

"What time is it?" he blurted out. The surgeon's eyebrows came together for a moment before he answered smoothly.

"Almost midnight, sir." Sam couldn't believe it. He had been here for almost six hours. Why hadn't anyone come to talk to him, to tell him they were leaving, to ask him if he needed anything? He realized he had bitten off most of their heads. Jerry had probably told them to leave him alone. He was grateful for that.

He looked up at the surgeon, not bothering to stand. There was a look in his eyes that Sam had previously missed, making him suddenly uneasy.

He saw the man's mouth moving as he formed words. He saw Jerry bring a hand to his head. He felt the weight of the surgeon's hand on his shoulder. He saw the man turn and walk away, his gait unsteady.

It was only when the door swung shut behind him that Sam was able to comprehend.

Andy McNally was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys!_

_So here's the second chapter...don't worry, I told you guys everything would work out. I absolutely HATE reading stories where the characters die. I loved your concern for Andy though._

_Thanks for all your reviews for the first chapter, hope you all enjoy this one!_

_I live for reviews, so please give me feedback! xx  


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The first thing Andy saw when she opened her eyes was white.

At first, she thought she was dead. There were quite murmurings surrounding her, and everything was swathed in such a brilliant white that she knew she must be in heaven. Over the next few minutes, several things disqualified her original notion. The most obvious was the aching pain in her right shoulder that throbbed along with her heart. She had never been very religious, but she was sure that there was no pain in heaven.

The other things that dispelled her fear that she was no longer among the living was the constant beeping of a heart monitor and the various tubes that were hooked up to her. She highly doubted there were hospitals in the afterlife.

And then there was her father, sitting next to her bed, slumped over the lower half of her body in an awkward pose that could have only been tolerated if he had been sleeping.

Andy let out a loud, shaky breath. She was indeed alive.

The sound woke up her father, and he shot up in his chair like he had been electrocuted. He looked at her. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and he was slightly trembling.

"Andrea," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly on the third syllable. "Oh Andy, my sweet girl, Andy." He leaned over and hugged his daughter, murmuring her name over and over again.

She breathed in the familiar smell of brandy and smoke, wincing slightly in pain when his elbow hit her shoulder.

"Hey, daddy," she answered in the same quiet tone, letting her father hold her despite the pain that was radiating throughout her body. A cough at the door interrupted their reunion.

"Ah, Miss McNally, you're awake. Excellent." The man's voice had a pleasant lilt to it, hinting at a British background. "I'm Doctor Thomas Jacobs. How are you feeling?"

"Like absolute hell," she answered truthfully. She saw her father cringe out of the corner of her eye and wished she had been more tactful. Dr. Jacobs laughed.

"I'd be surprised if you weren't. You've been through quite an ordeal. Do you have any recollection of what happened?"

Andy closed her eyes. Snippets of scenes flashed through her mind.

_Drawing their weapons. Making their way into the warehouse. Being wary of going in without backup. Disappointing Sam._ That cut her like a knife. She was suddenly afraid.

"Where's Sam?" she asked fearfully.

Tommy McNally let out a short laugh. "You're a true cop, eh my girl? Always thinking about your partner. Sammy's fine, Andy. He took down those bastards seconds after they shot you."

Andy's eyes widened, a rush of memories following. Suddenly, the snippets became complete scenes. "I was shot?" she asked, somewhat rhetorically.

Dr. Jacobs smiled slightly. "Yes. Three times, and two found your shoulder, somehow getting past your vest...the report says the gunman fired from above you. And I must say, you're doing remarkably well for what you went through, though we..." He was cut off as Frank Best walked into the room.

"Officer McNally, you're looking remarkably better since the last time I saw you," he stated, standing by the doctor. His features tensed momentarily as he recalled seeing one of his officers on the ground, blood everywhere.

"Sir," she answered, struggling to sit up in her superior's presence. A searing pain coursed throughout her upper right half. Both her father and doctor quickly quieted her movements.

An odd quiet settled in the room, with Tommy and Best exchanging heated looks that spoke volumes as Dr. Jacobs shifted his weight uneasily. All this was lost on Andy as she retreated to her thoughts.

_Where was Sam?_ His absence made no sense to her. She would have thought he would have been by her bedside, and while she was glad to wake up to her father, she wished she could have seen Sam's face as the first thing. Did he know she was alright? Why wasn't he here right now? She somewhat understood Staff Sergeant Best's presence, but it would have made more sense to have her partner here instead. She couldn't take her revolving thoughts any longer.

"I want to see Sam," she blurted out, past the point of being careful her true feelings towards him didn't show in front of her superior. Dead silence followed her plea. The looks between Frank and Tommy intensified. Dr. Jacobs looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave the room.

"You said he wasn't dead. You said he was fine!" Andy said, her voice creeping into hysteria. The beeping of the heart monitor sped up rapidly.

"He's fine, sweetie, just like I told you. It's just that - " Tommy was cut off as Frank interjected.

"McNally, we need to talk. Do you remember when your father was an officer, and he killed a girl called Joanna Hastings?"

Andy vaguely remembered a day when her father had come home and taken out a bottle of vodka. She had watched him drink half of it before passing out on the sofa. She had been ten, and that had been the start of his alcoholism. She didn't trust herself to speak.

Frank continued. "The entire Fifteenth Division had been chasing her father, Tyrone Hastings, for the better part of the year. He was a big time drug kingpin, heroin and whatnot, but also designer drugs. We couldn't touch him; it was like he was invincible. Then we got a break in the case, and the whole thing just cracked wide open. Your father was part of the take down team that went to the Hastings' house to arrest Tyrone."

Andy wasn't sure where this story was headed, and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Between SWAT and Tommy's team, the house was completely surrounded. They entered. Tyrone wasn't there. But his daughter was. She shot at our officers. Your father took her down."

Andy closed her eyes, swallowing hard. She wasn't sure what this had to do with her, but she hated hearing about her father killing someone. When she opened her eyes again, Best raised his eyebrows as if to ask permission to continue.

"Tyrone went into hiding after that. It's been fourteen years, and we've never been able to find him, yet he's still been supplying and running his operation from God-knows-where. And this is where you come in."

Tommy, still seated beside Andy, took her hand and squeezed it. She was suddenly afraid.

"The last time we had contact with Tyrone was through a voice mail. He said he wouldn't rest until Tommy McNally's daughter was dead, and he got to personally see her funeral. This man does not make threats lightly. That was why I took you off the Fuller case - they had close ties with the Hastings. But now, we're going to use your death to our advantage."

The puzzle was starting to come together in Andy's head, but the last sentence threw her for a loop. "But I'm not dead," she stated.

Best took a deep breath before answering her. "From this day on, you are. We already relayed that your operation was a failure. You're funeral will be the thing that draws Hastings out of hiding. We'll nab him there."

"So I'm dead in all senses except the actual one?" she asked.

"McNally, you are under no circumstances to contact anyone. The fewer people who know our operation, the more likely it will succeed. _Do I make myself clear_?"

Andy couldn't breathe. Of all the people who thought she was dead, only one came to mind. The thought made her heart clench, a cold draft of dread slowly seeping through her, numbing everything except her wounds, which intensified in pain. She started to tremble. "So Sam - "

"Officer Swarek thinks you're dead."


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys!_

_So I've been having quite a lot of fun writing this story, and I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it! Your reviews made me churn out this chapter faster than I was going to, so thanks for the motivation!_

_Anyways, hope you all enjoy! And I love reviews, they actually help shape the direction of my stories. xx

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Sam stared at his reflection. The mirror showed him in full official dress, looking extremely sharp and put together. His uniform was pressed and ironed, the buttons gleamed, his boots reflected the lamp's light from the half hour he spent polishing them.

And then there was his face.

His skin was sullen and pale. His bloodshot eyes were sunken from nights of drinking alone, and were overshadowed by the massive black bags under them from lack of sleep. His lips were parched and cracked, since alcohol alone was not enough to keep hydrated.

He was considering not going to the funeral. Two weeks had done a number on him, and he was almost positive that if he had to salute as the coffin went by, he wouldn't be able to hold it together. He hadn't cried in over fifteen years, and he wasn't about to start.

He knew he was strong, but he also knew the sight of the coffin, _her_ coffin, would break him. Sam Swarek did not show weakness in front of others. He rarely showed weakness in front of himself.

But if he went to the funeral, he would have to face what he had been continually running from.

Andy was dead.

He closed his eyes, the ever constant aching sharpening at the thought that had slipped past his alcohol induced haze.

He turned away from the mirror, heading towards the kitchen. He grabbed the bottle from the counter and leaned against the granite top, taking a long drink, not bothering to notice what exactly he was drinking.

He had lost everything. He stared ahead of him, not seeing. His mouth opened slightly at a sudden memory that surfaced.

_"Sam, look." Andy pointed to the mountains that were barely visible above the swirling fog. He appeased her, slowing the car down to take in the view._

_"What about it McNally?" he asked, looking over at her. She frowned slightly._

_"You have no appreciation for beauty Sam. One of these days something is going to be right in front of you and you'll fail to see it." She crossed her arms and resumed looking out the window._

_He watched her marvel at the majestic mountains, her mouth curving slightly in a small smile. She looked completely at peace, despite the fact that they were on patrol and had a man handcuffed in the back of the car. _

_He didn't fail to see what was in front of him just then. _

He blinked, the memory ending. He hadn't told her how he felt then. How many times had he had an opportunity to tell her, but let it slip away? What would he have told her, exactly? His brow furrowed at the sudden change in his stream of consciousness.

He loved her.

A strangled noise came from his throat. He threw the bottle against the wall, the sound of breaking glass falling deaf on his ears. The liquid dripped down the wall, forming a puddle on the floor.

He clenched the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning white. He set his jaw, blinking twice. He took a deep breath, relieved when the strange, animalistic sound didn't escape again.

He would go to the funeral. He would go, and he would honor her, because he loved her.

If only it hadn't been too late.

* * *

Andy sat on the edge of her bed, her palms sweaty. Today was the day. The day of her funeral. It was a funny thing, being dead. For one, she watched a lot of TV. She had caught up on her reading, making her way rapidly through the list of books she had been meaning to read.

Maybe being dead wasn't such a bad thing after all.

She snorted. Who was she kidding? The past two weeks had been absolute hell. She had been cut off from everyone, including her father. Only Best had visited her at the hospital, and that was only because he had to bring her up on the case and the logistics surrounding it.

She had been left alone with only her thoughts and Dr. Jacobs for company. And even his British accent eventually set her nerves on edge after a while.

So her thoughts had been her only constant companion, and since they mostly revolved around _him_, he was in a strange way her constant companion also.

_Sam._

She didn't want to think about what he must be going through. Losing a partner was one of the worst things that could happen to a cop.

But he was so much more than a partner to her. Ten months was a long time to dwell on feelings, to analyze them, to watch them grow with trepidation. Ten months had been sufficient time to come to terms with the one emotion that she had desperately tried never to feel.

She loved him.

For the past two weeks, she had only one comforting thought to keep her misery at bay. She would be able to see him again, to talk to him again, to work with him again. After today, things could go back to normal.

But fourteen days in almost total solitude had made her a bit crazy. She wasn't sure what fifteen days would do.

What if she went to see Sam right now? To just be able to _be_ with him.

It was a crazy thought, and one that was promptly pushed out of her mind. She wouldn't blow the whole case just because she missed her partner.

_Just one more day,_ she thought. _Just one more day.

* * *

_Sam's phone rang. Briefly, his heart jumped at the thought that it was Andy, just like it had always acted whenever it had rung.

Then reality returned, and the crushing weight settled back down on him. He looked towards the phone, which was on a small table that held a plant that had once been green but was now dead.

Andy had given him that plant, saying that he needed something living in his house other than himself. _Andy._

The phone continued ringing. He noticed his gun was lying next to it.

He made his way over to the table.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey guys!_

_I'm seriously so happy you're loving this story. So many reviews and favorites and alerts. Thanks so much to all of you!_

_And I'm sorry for the swear word. I tried to tame it down, but it didn't pack the same punch with other words.  
_

_Here's the fourth chapter. As always, I live for reviews, so please do! Hope you all enjoy! xx  


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For a brief moment, Sam wondered what it would be like to pick up the gun and pull the trigger.

And then he laughed.

He hadn't laughed, or even smiled, since Andy had died. It wasn't a light, pleasant laugh that makes one feel happy. It was harsh and guttural, tinged with guilt and remorse. But still, it felt good to laugh. He remembered a conversation he had had with her on an extremely slow day. They had been sitting in the squad car, and the subject suddenly, randomly, turned to suicide. He didn't have an opinion about it, other than he thought it was cowardly, but she had been vehement in her opposition.

He wasn't planning on taking his own life, but any small wavering was put to rest at the thought of her. He wasn't sure what happened when you died, but on the off chance that there wasn't an afterlife, he would rather be alive with the memories of Andy then be dead with no recollection at all.

He picked up his phone.

"Yeah, Sam." He didn't remember his voice being this low or raspy.

"Sammy, I've been waiting outside for ten minutes. You coming or what?" Oliver's voice was like a shock to his system, jolting him from his dream-like state back to reality.

A reality without Andy. Forever.

Reality was fucked up.

"Yeah, I'm coming. No need to be impatient." He hung up, not bothering to look at himself again in the mirror before walking out of his house, leaving his phone on the coffee table.

Ten seconds after he left, his phone rang again.

**Caller: Andy**

It went to voice mail.**  
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A knock at the door made Andy quickly drop the phone she was holding. A second later, the door opened.

"McNally, you're looking remarkably well for someone who's dead," Best said as he walked into the room. She managed a small smile. This was the second time the staff sergeant had visited her.

"Sir, you're all dressed up for my funeral. I'm touched," she said dryly. It seemed sarcasm was the only way to cope with the bizarre tailspin she was in. "You sure I can't make an appearance?"

Frank shook his head. "We can't risk Hastings seeing you. You haven't made contact with anyone, have you?"

Andy's heartbeat stuttered momentarily as she clutched the phone beneath the blue blanket. "No, sir."

"Good," he answered, smiling. "Just checking."

"Um, sir?" she asked. "What exactly happens after the funeral? I can't just waltz back into the station and give everyone a heart attack because they saw the dead officer back in uniform."

He nodded slowly. "We'll have to break the news sometime, just obviously not right after the funeral. What with the arrest and the chaos that will be surrounding it...probably the day after or so."

Andy couldn't believe it. She couldn't wait two more days to see everyone. To see Sam.

"What happens if my coffin falls over and no one's in it?"

Best let out a laugh. "It's sealed shut. What kind of morbid thought is that McNally?"

She smiled. "I've been alone for two weeks. Forgive me if I've entertained some dark thoughts."

"How's the shoulder?" he asked, gesturing to her wounds. She slowly shrugged her shoulders, pronouncing her right one more.

"It's healing. Slowly. When will I be able to return?"

"I want you at the station when everything's revealed. You can all shock them with an appearance. But you can't officially come back until the doctor's cleared you."

Andy grimaced at the mention of Dr. Jacobs. He was polite and professional, but acted jumpy whenever he was around her. It was like she was actually a fatality, stuck in the morgue.

Frank glanced at the clock on the wall. "I better get going. I can't be late to your memorial, can I?" He turned and began walking out of the room.

"Sir?" Andy called after him. "How's Sam?"

Frank stopped but didn't turn around. He closed his eyes momentarily. He slowly turned to face her. "Not good." He turned back around and left.

A sob escaped from her lips, but she cut it off halfway. She gasped for air. Those two words had cut her like a knife. Now, more than ever, she needed to see him. Actually, she didn't even have to see him. Just to talk to him, to hear his voice, would be enough. She half contemplated calling him again. Maybe this time he would pick up. She fingered the phone in her covered hand. Calling him once had been risky enough. She couldn't risk blowing the whole operation because she was having a moment of weakness.

Soon. She'd see him soon.

* * *

_BANG!_

The sound of rifles firing made Sam shudder. The noise was too similar to the firing of the gun that had killed Andy.

He stared at the coffin. It was mahogany.

_Andy's inside there._ The thought ripped him in two. He half wanted an open casket, to be able to see her beautiful face one last time. To be able to walk by and lean down to whisper _"I love you"_ to the only woman who had ever deserved it. And maybe, just maybe, she'd wake up.

The ridiculous thought suddenly made Sam glad that it was a closed casket. He was so close to loosing it, and by not being able to see her, lying there, he wouldn't have to fully accept the fact that she was gone, and never coming back.

_Andy._ He saw Traci weeping on Jerry's shoulder.

_Andy._ He saw Dov standing, his chest heaving as he drew in ragged breaths, trying to stop the silent tears that were streaming down his face.

_Andy._ He saw Chris, holding Gail's hand tightly, both trying, and failing, to keep composure.

_Andy._ He saw Tommy McNally, sitting in the front row, rocking back and forth slightly, holding his head in his hands.

_Andy. Andy. Andy._

Oliver clasped his shoulder, but the feeling was lost on him.

The coffin started to be lowered. Sam involuntarily let out a low growl as dirt began to be shoveled into the hole. He knew he should look away, but he couldn't.

A scuffle suddenly broke out in the enclave of trees that made a half-circle around the burial site. Muffled shouts could be heard, as well as the command of "Take down", and something that suspiciously sounded like "Suspect is in custody", but Sam couldn't tear his gaze away from the rapidly filling hole.

This was it. Andy was gone.

And with that thought, Sam's grip on reality shattered, leaving him dangling by a thread of sanity.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys!_

_So all your amazing, wonderful reviews have made me want to write faster than I ever would have before. I can't believe how much fun I'm having writing this._

_Anyways, here's the fifth chapter. Apparently this story just kind of grew bigger than I had intended it to be, so there's going to be one more chapter after this one._

_Hope you enjoy this one as much as the other updates. As always, please review, I live for them and they make me so happy! xx

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Andy let out a shaky breath as she closed the door behind her, reveling in the quiet familiarity of her house. Her father had come and picked her up from the hospital after Hastings had been processed and booked.

This was it. It was finally over.

Apparently her funeral had been nice while it had lasted. Her father had told her he even managed to make himself cry - though Andy suspected it had been easy enough for the emotional Italian cop.

But now she was back in the land of the living. After two weeks of being dead, there was no more need for pretending.

Best had come with her father to break the good news - that they had indeed caught Hastings, who had been watching the funeral in the clump of trees that was close to the burial site. She was glad that the operation had been successful, she truly was, but she still felt incomplete somehow, like something hadn't been set right. Of course, all her friends and colleagues thought she was still dead, but that wasn't what was missing. They would find out tomorrow, and she would deal with the aftermath and questions then.

She walked through her house, touching each object, as if to remind herself that she was actually alive and well. She dropped her bag on the floor next to the telephone and sank down on the sofa, the familiar sensation of the well worn cushions under her bringing a smile to her face that quickly faded.

She was home. But it didn't feel complete.

She wrestled with the dilemma on her hands. She knew what she should do, and the longer she weighed it against what she _wanted_ to do, the more the latter won out.

She grabbed her keys from her bag, and walked out.

* * *

Sam had tried to wrap his mind around the events that had transpired that day for the better part of it.

Somehow, Tyrone Hastings had been arrested at Andy's funeral. He remembered the man's threat against her, and while he was glad they had finally caught the bastard, he desperately wished it had been under different circumstances. He knew that even though Hastings was going to face a long prison sentence, he had actually won the one thing he had wanted more than anything in the world - to see Tommy McNally cry at his own daughter's funeral.

He rolled the brown bottle around in his hands, absentmindedly glancing at the heap of discarded clothes that had previously made up his official uniform.

He rocked back and forth, his eyes closed to prevent the tears he knew were threatening to spill over.

He couldn't go on, he just couldn't. He had gotten Andy killed; it was his fault. The searing pain in his chest had been joined by a throbbing in his head, the two forming a malignant, hateful duet that cursed him every second.

He saw a spider crawling across the hardwood floor towards the spilled alcohol on the floor he had thrown hours ago. He wondered how spiders felt when one of their own was trampled and stomped to death. Did they feel grief or guilt?

He laughed at himself, the raspy, harsh noise breaking the stilted silence in the room.

He realized he was losing it. Nightmares had somehow found their way into the daytime, and Sam wondered if, and when, he would start hallucinating. The combination of the exorbitant amounts of alcohol he had consumed in the past few weeks and the various, useless sleeping pills he had taken should be taking a toll on his psyche anytime.

A knock at the door abruptly brought him back from his jumbled mess of thoughts. He wedged the bottle between the two seat cushions of the sofa and made his way to the door.

He jerked it open and saw Andy McNally standing in the doorway.

His mouth fell open, and he blinked several times. A low, harsh chuckle escaped.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he said. It was a devastatingly beautiful mirage. He saw her frown.

"What?"

Sam couldn't believe it. Even the ghost's voice sounded exactly like her's. He didn't move, lest the image vaporize and disappear. He was hypnotized by her dark eyes, just like he'd always been when she had been alive.

"Sam, it's me. Andy." She swallowed hard. Best had been completely under-exaggerating Sam's condition. He looked like he had been to hell and back, like he was the one dead instead of her. Hypothetically, of course. _Oh my God. Does he think..._

"Yeah Andy, I know. You think I wouldn't recognize you, even though you're, you know, dead?" Again, Sam was amazed at how exactly like Andy's ghost was to the real Andy - it even spoke the obvious aloud, as if to clarify an already-clear situation.

Andy couldn't breathe. She felt her heart being ripped from her chest. No amount of pain she had dealt with from the gunshot wounds compared to this feeling. This man before her, this wonderful, strong, beautiful man, had been leveled down to one who thought he was being haunted by his dead rookie, who wasn't actually dead.

_Oh my - oh God, what have I done to him?_

"Sam, I'm not dead. I didn't die. It was all fake - Fuller didn't actually kill me. I mean, he did shoot me, but I didn't die." She was desperately trying to explain. Her voice started climbing higher. "Remember Hastings' threat? It was the only way to catch him - to stage my funeral, so that he would witness my dad in the same amount of grief that he had experienced all those years ago. I'm alive Sam. I'm here."

Sam shook his head in disbelief, running his tongue along the edge of his teeth. He was amazed at the lengths his subconscious was going to in order to justify what had happened. Apparently he wasn't losing at all - he had already actually _lost_ it all. He gave a small smile that spoke volumes of sadness.

"Okay. Sure." Who was he to argue with his hallucination?

Andy felt the claws of hysteria beginning to grip her. He didn't believe her. He wouldn't, not until tomorrow. She couldn't wait that long.

"I called you. You can check your phone." She saw his eyes narrow slightly. She ripped the top of her shirt down, revealing bare skin that was marred by two scars that were caved in to form shallow holes.

"Sam. Feel these. Ghosts aren't solid; hallucinations don't had tangible scars and holes in them. Look!" She grabbed his left hand and brought it to her chest, allowing his fingers to graze over her still tender wounds.

Sam's heart stopped. His mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. His hallucination was right - ghosts didn't have holes, and they weren't solid. He ran his fingers over and over the bullet wounds. His hallucination wasn't a hallucination at all. It wasn't a ghost, or a figment of his imagination. This was real - she was actually here. Alive.

"Oh my God," he whispered, looking back up at her. "Andy."


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey guys!_

_So I'm really quite sad that this is the last chapter of the story. I'm going to terribly miss writing it! You have all been so fantastic and amazing in your support and praise. So thanks so much! This would have never been written if it hadn't been for all of you._

_Anyways, I honestly didn't think I needed to continue it with Andy's reunion with everyone else, just Sam. Hope that's okay! And I really really hope you enjoy this! xx

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For a moment, it was as if the world stood still. There were no more than two feet between them, but it felt like a never ending chasm.

And then he pulled her into him.

The feeling of her - warm, solid, and _real_, was like a soothing balm over Sam's shattered soul. Her scent, as light and intoxicating as ever, swept the black cobwebs from his deteriorating mind. With every heartbeat of hers that he could feel, a piece of his own heart fell back into place.

His arms were as strong and supporting as she had remembered. Andy laid her head on his chest as she struggled to maintain composure. The feeling of his lips against her hair, and the sound of his voice murmuring her name over and over again, broke whatever resolve she had left. The tears started to fall, unleashing a myriad of emotions. Her chest heaved with muffled sobs as she clung to him.

The sound of her crying was the final thing that broke Sam's emotional barriers. A single tear fell from his tightly shut eyes, the droplet landing on her hair. He drew her closer to him, as if to knit her very being to his.

They stood there, in his doorway, for what seemed like eternity, reveling in each others touch, clinging to the moment like it was their last.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered in her ear. She let out a half laugh that was cut short by another sob.

"You didn't," she answered simply.

Sam stiffened at the obvious statement. He pulled away from her. "No, I didn't. But I thought I had. Do you have any idea what you did to me?"

Andy was taken aback by the anger that was clearly evident in both his eyes and voice. "I'm sorry. I couldn't do anything about it though. I had orders!"

"Screw the orders!" All of his built up anger, guilt, remorse, and self loathing suddenly burst forth. "When your partner dies, you die too. Maybe not actually, but figuratively. Hell, Andy, if this situation had been reversed, do you think I would have just pretended to be dead without telling you?"

The latter part of his outburst was lost on Andy. She could only focus on the first part.

"So that's all I am to you, Sam - your partner? _Just_ your partner?" It was her turn to shout. It was only after she had screamed in his face that she realized how close they were.

Sam's eyes widened. His lips parted slightly. He stared at her, continually flickering his gaze down to her lips. She licked them unconsciously, her heart pounding.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her into him, crashing his lips against hers. She responded instantly, kissing him like she was drowning. They somehow made their way into his house. He slammed the door shut with his foot, never taking his lips off hers. His hands roamed everywhere - her hair, her face, her waist...every touch left a trail of wildfire that threatened to consume the both of them.

Her kisses tasted like tears. He trapped her against the wall, pressing his body against hers. He felt more alive now than he had ever had. He tried to tell her with every kiss, every touch, how much she meant to him. Because she was more than just a partner. So much more.

His kisses tasted like whiskey but gave her a high she had never experienced with alcohol. She was still crying, the tears were still falling. She was completely oblivious to everything else but him.

The angry, desperate kisses eventually turned to gentler, sweeter ones. Sam tried his best to cleanse her of her sorrow, softly kissing her face, removing her fallen tears. His arms tightened around her as his mouth found hers once again, consuming it in a slow, burning kiss that made her moan. She twisted her right leg around his waist as his hips rocked against hers.

"Andy," he murmured, trailing his lips down her throat to her collarbone, and then making his way back up. Her hands ran up under his shirt across his back.

She never wanted this to end. She never, ever wanted to leave his embrace.

"I guess I'm not just your partner," she whispered, breathing heavily. He laughed softly, kissing her again.

"You are so, so much more than that," he answered. She laid her head in the crook of his neck, pressing her lips against his skin. He closed his eyes at the sensation. His arms tightened around her again as he struggled internally. Finally, he spoke, his heart overruling his head.

"I love you." Those three simple words sounded so sweet coming from his mouth. He felt her lips curve in a smile, never leaving his neck.

"I love you too."


End file.
